“And I should care about those reasons because…” I prompted.
Hector didn’t hesitate. “You don’t have to care about
‘em, you just gotta understand he has ‘em.” I glared at Hector for a beat.
Whatever.
It was then I realized I was alone with Hector and it was then I remembered to feel uncomfortable.
I stared at him.
He grinned at me.
Al of a sudden I didn’t know what to do or say. Al I could think about was Mace tel ing me that in twenty-four hours, Hector would have me flat on my back, him on top and both of us would be naked.
And this didn’t seem like a bad idea.
Oh my God, you are SUCH a slut, my brain remarked.
This was al communicated to Hector on some Hot Guy Secret Wavelength and his grin turned to a wolfish but highly effective smile.
Effing hel .
Thankful y, he threw me a bone.
“You were makin’ coffee?” he reminded me.
“Oh yeah, right,” I muttered and then scooted into the kitchen.
I grabbed the pot, fil ed it with water and turned to the coffeemaker while Hector joined me in the kitchen. I would have preferred him to stay further away (say, Alaska) but I didn’t have a choice and I didn’t want to ask him because he’d think I was a slutty wuss.
I poured the water into the coffeemaker and tucked some hair behind my ear.
“So…” I searched desperately for conversation, wondering how long it would take to tel the band they had two words they could say to reporters and other than that they had to keep their mouths shut and I figured, with my band, it would take approximately eighty-two hours.
I was going to have to make a lot of conversation.
I glanced at Hector. “Do you have a girlfriend?” Now why did I ask that?
Why, why, why?
“Nope,” Hector replied.
“No one special?” I went on.
Shut up! My brain screamed.
“Didn’t say that,” Hector answered.
Interesting. My brain was no longer screaming.
I shoved the pot under the spout, flipped the switch and looked at him ful y.
“There’s someone special?” I asked.
He didn’t answer.
“But she’s not your girlfriend?”